This chapter looks quite a lot like the beginning of ''What Happens Now'' from valix33. His story was honestly what inspired me to write this piece. I only noticed the similarities after I finished writing it, so I wanted to specify that this wasn't my intention at all. I might rewrite it in the future so it's doesn't seem so alike.
October 1945
He missed that boy. His piercing blue eyes, his sarcasm manipulated with a hilarious perfection and his innocent kindness. His arrival had shaken them all, but in return it had brought them so much things. It gave them back that piece of humanity that three years of nightmare had almost killed. Norman had such a different way of seeing life, as if every little thing could hide something bright and beautiful.
These were the thoughts that crossed Don's mind as he pulled a puff of smoke from his cigarette, sitting in the wooden chair that sat on his porch. The man roamed the yellow landscape with a gloomy eye. From the silence that once gave him a sense of tranquility, there was nothing left but an impression of oppressive emptiness. Since his return to his small rural community, no one had spoken to him. A heavy silence fell in every shop where the veteran was setting foot. Don quickly realized that he had no place here anymore. He was supposed to be dead. His own house was no longer comforting him. For weeks he lived alone, having for only company the pictures on the walls and the memories that haunted his dreams. The soldier of the past crushed his cigarette and sighed. Despite the flatness of his daily life, he was tired. Sleeping had been difficult in the first days, and even now he was struggling to recover from his nightmares. They all seemed so realistic ... even in the daytime, it wasn't uncommon for him to be frightened or to jump to the window for nothing. Plenty of thought jostled in Don's head. He couldn't stay here anymore. But where could he go? He had no contact, no landmark ... but then, a souvenir emerged from his memory.
Without thinking more than a few minutes, Wardaddy stood up and rushed into his home. Seconds later, he was filling an old bag, picking up pieces of clothing without really paying attention to what he was choosing. As the man was about to leave his bedroom, his eyes fell on the small pile of envelopes on the corner of his bedside table; the letters of his brothers-in-arms, now rumored from how much he'd read and re-read them. His heart sank and he stuffed them into his bag. With a mixture of apprehension and euphoria, Don locked the door of his house for good. He hurried towards his car. A bark, however, cut him off as he put his package on the passenger seat. Jeremiah's old dog, his wise neighbor, was waving his tail in his direction. This simple sight reminded the sergeant of the magnitude of his idea. He was living his home for an indefinite time, perhaps even forever, without preparing anything. Only fate and God would be with him now. Don took a seat in the driver place and started the engine. A flood of conflicting emotions gripped his heart and throat as he left the little town. He glanced back and took the road towards East.